No Gods, No Masters
by Lucky 7's
Summary: War, war never changes. In the years following the 2nd Battle of Hoover Dam, the new Executive of the New Vegas Strip solidified his grip over the Mojave Wasteland. He grabbed the bull by the horns. As well as "befreinding" the bear to keep relative peace in the Mojave. One by one, his friends left him. Some said he became the new House, others lost the love they had for him.


**"For what is a Man profited**

**if he shall gain the whole World,**

**and lose his own soul?"**

**-Matthew 16:26 KJV**

* * *

The Mojave Wasteland a place where death is passed around faster than a Whore in Gomorrah. It's really a shitty place if you think about it. Fiends, Gamblers, Deathclaws, and those big fucking wasp-things, it makes you question the sanity of the people who CHOOSE to live here. New California isn't all that bad... Right? I mean you pay Taxes for breathing, but at least there is safety.

...It's still fucking shit over there too? God-Almighty, this planet really is fucked, ain't it? We're getting a little off topic... Vegas! New Vegas... as the current De Facto Executive, The Courier, says. "A city devoted to Vice and Sin - What's not to love?"

Vegas really puts some gold plating on the rest of the Shit. Hookers on every corner, Casinos behind every door, and booze pouring out of the sewers! Freedom at the highest degree. Do you want an STD? Go to some piss poor brothel in Westside. Come to The Strip if you're looking to be a Man. Speaking about The Man... You ever heard of The Courier?

OF Course, you have! I just mentioned him a few lines ago. The De Facto Executive, our glorious leader, and savior. Apparently, he doesn't like that last part but, he never asked me to stop so I'm not! I love that guy, as much as my circuits can allow for.

But enough about me! Let's get into the juicy stuff! First, he was a Courier, hence the name, then he became a Psychopath... Or Sociopath... by killing his way across the Mojave until he killed The Head Chairman Benny in his own Casino!

I know! Isn't he the Best? This Log is going to make a great Book! Oops! I may have been too loud... I think he's waking up-!

"Shut The Fuck UP!" A voice echoed through the penthouse. "God! Can you not Talk to yourself!?"

The sound of fans whirring died down as the continued screams of a Man recovering from a not so easy Hang-Over.

I Mean Shit!" The Courier was now sitting on his bed, wiping his face as a way to wake up. "I need sleep! I have a meeting with Crocker in-"

"15 Minutes," The Monitor across the Penthouse piped up. "You Dumbass. About time someone woke your Alcoholic Ass up!"

"15 Minutes!?" The Courier bolted from his bed into his bathroom.

"Yes, Coffee and your daily dose of Steady is in the Kitchen like always, you junkie."

The Courier didn't have time for a quick snark at his AI friend, getting ready was a far more important task. His monthly meeting with Ambassador Crocker was something he wouldn't hate missing, but it would cause long-term problems between the NCR and New Vegas. Like being labeled a Terrorist again.

He quickly scrubbed his teeth and wet his hair, not caring about the finer details. He began going over talking points, one being the Remnants of the Legion, the Treaty of Hoover Dam, and the whole... War that's brewing.

"10 Minutes." Yes Man spoke enthusiastically from the Monitor.

"Fuck Off, Dick."

The Courier raced to put on his jeans, his shirt, and duster, neglecting to wear his armaments for fear of losing even more time. Yes Man, being the greatest advisor, gave his calculations to The Courier as well as the Time.

"68% chance you and Crocker have a nice chat and be productive! 21% chance you call him 'Cocker'. 10% chance you get kicked out of the Embassy... Again."

"What about that last 1%?" The Courier asked sliding his Gecko Skinned Boots on.

"Oh... 1% chance you kill the poor Bastard."

The Courier could only laugh at his friend's colorful vocabulary. Seeing that it was his own personality that corrupted poor Yes Man.

"Alright... You coming with?" The Courier looked over the balcony at Yes Man.

Sudden sounds of fans and circuits going off echoed through his Pip-Boy 3000. Soon, his device's screen showed the same smile as the monitor did.

"Of Course!" The chipper voice of Yes Man emitted through the speakers.

"Fanta-"

"4 Minutes." Yes Man cut him off.

The Courier pounced up passing all of his trinkets and robot butlers. Reaching the elevator he raised his hand to press the Call Button and almost immediately the doors opened. It wasn't like anyone but him used the elevator, he was alone in his High Tower. Waiting through the elevator ride wasted about 2 minutes, this day was not turning out well for The Courier.

* * *

The Strip had changed a bit since the reign of Mr. House. The Courier began to invest a heavy amount into it, allowing the surrounding area to start thriving from the influx of Wealth. For The Strip, Hotels began to pop up from the abandoned complexes, a few more restaurants, and even an upgraded Embassy for the NCR.

For Freeside, The Kings became a semi-police force and entertainment for the people of Freeside, the Followers established a state of the art Hospital, paid for by a generous benefactor, and even a Church popped up from the ashes of Freeside. The First Baptist Church of Vegas, a humble little place that tries to help the unfortunate souls recover from the hellish nightmare outside the walls.

"1 minute remaining." Yes Man said.

"I Know!" The Courier said, running past The Vault 21 Hotel. "I hope he'll accept me late!"

"You know he can't resist your Charm!" The enthusiastic voice emitted.

That earned a chuckle from The Courier. Honestly, he couldn't tell if that was a joke or an actual statement, he just thought it was funny.

Entering the Embassy's gates was a nostalgic feeling. After all, this was the place where he became a public servant... Kind of.

"Six!"

The Courier turned to see a woman dressed in NCR fatigues, Lieutenant Mags. A Misfit from a previous life. He had helped her little band of warriors become a fierce fighting force for The Bear. The Courier kept tabs on the Misfits, keeping them afloat with his near bottomless Bank account.

"Mags!" The Courier's face lit up but then shifted to a puzzled look. "Ah... Who'd you piss off to get shipped back out here?"

This caused Mags to chuckle. "No one, I just requested leave time in Vegas."

"Well, you picked the best tourist trap east of New Reno!"

"Ain't that-"

"And Late... Wow, you really suck at this." Yes Man beamed from the Pip-Boy.

This jerked The Courier back into reality.

"Ah!" He turned to the Embassy doors and began booking it. "We'll have to catch up! Uh... The Gourmand?"

"Uh-."

"Great! See you at 6!"

And so The Courier left the woman confused and alone, to ponder on the events that just occurred. She had to him some credit, he hadn't changed a bit. A Cowboy with a heart of Gold... Well, at least that was the front she believed. Little did she know, that Cowboy died a long time ago.

* * *

"You're late."

"And you're looking lovely as usual, Ms. O'Malley," The Courier flirted.

"Oh, if only your charm could work on me," Liza pouted. "But I read your file a long time ago."

This caused The Courier to give a semi-sarcastic and uncomfortable laugh, before walking past her toward the Ambassador's office.

The door opened revealing a quaint little office, newly painted walls, a new oak desk, and even a liquor cabinet. Ambassador Crocker kept at his chair, typing up a report on current events, and whatnot. He even had a bottle of whiskey opened for the occasion.

"I'm sorry I'm late... Traffic can be hell." The Courier started.

Crocker just raised a hand and gestured toward a vacant chair parallel to himself. The Courier, sensing the obvious tension, tried to lighten the mood as best he could.

"So... How's Uh..." The Courier squinted, trying to come up with a topic. "...California?"

Crocker's eyes moved up from the terminal, toward The Courier's.

"Does your eye always do that?"

The Courier raised an eyebrow. _Fuck did he mean by that?_

"What?"

"Your eye," Crocker pointed out. "It's Uh... Silver."

"Ah... I'll have whatever you're having," The Courier chuckled. "Cause, my eyes? They're Hazel."

"Look your fucking right eye is silver right now," Crocker raised his hands in a defeated manner.

The Courier gave one more squint, to figure out this man. Then his eyes widened, and his mouth produced an 'Oh' sound. He then used his palm on the left side of his head, as he lightly hit his head the silver iris faded into hazel hue.

"There we go..." The Courier said while blinking his left eye. "Better?"

"Much... Do I want to know-"

"No, You Don't." The Courier quickly cut him off.

With a long sigh from The Courier, their conversation finally began. The typical diplomacy, trade routes, deployment of NCR forces, payment for said forces, and a few insults spread around, the usual. Then the conversation took an interesting turn.

"We know you hate to send your 'Robots' outside of the Mojave," Crocker began digging through his desk, grabbing a Manila Envelope. "So, we sent some Rangers across Lake Mead."

Crocker handed the envelope over to The Courier. "It's our old pals... The Legion."

"Legion?" The Courier practically tore through the envelope. "I knew Lanius would be back..."

"That still was a stupid idea," Crocker pointed out.

"I know..." The Courier pulled out the photographs.

The pictures revealed a scouting party of 20 or 30 legionnaires, on the opposite side of Lake Mead, near the Ruins of The Fort, setting up camp. Another picture revealed their supplies, they were there for the long run. Provisions, clothing, weapons, and... Crucifixes. It seemed they could retake Cottonwood Cove, and these men seemed like they could.

"Crosses..." The Courier rubbed his hands. "These barbaric fucks still do that?"

"It would appear so..." Crocker responded.

"You know Crocker," The Courier looked up, from the photos. "I'm glad I spent a small fortune getting you back here."

This made Crocker laugh. "I don't know whether to hate you for sending me back to this Hell-hole, or love you for getting me out of the NCR."

"They'll be nothing but ash tomorrow..." The Courier paused and chuckled. "But why waste perfectly good crosses?"

Crocker's eyes widened, No... He wouldn't, would he? Crocker could only question himself.

"Need to send a message," The Courier collected the photos up, sliding them back into the Envelope. "What sends a better message than that?"

Crocker's reaction subsided as he reminded himself The Courier's personnel file. It was a short and brief file, history prior to NCR, history during the Mojave, medical, and even some of his aliases. Some were good, Messiah of The Wastes, a Wild Child, and all of them were true to some degree. But one stood amongst the rest, two Latin words. A title was given to The Courier by the man himself, Caesar.

Nuntius Mortis, The Messenger of Death.

"Alright Crocker," The Courier extended his hand. "I got a Date and a few legionnaires to kill."

"Date?" Crocker questioned as he grasped his hand. "I thought you and Cass were still a thing?"

The Courier's grip tightened. "I'll forget you said that. Bye, Crocker"

And so The Courier left the ambassador alone, to ponder on if he truly struck a nerve.

* * *

The Courier walked out from the doors of the Embassy, rubbing his eyes. He had been in there for at least a few hours, signing papers and discussing.

"What's the time, Yes Man?"

"5:35, October 23, 2283."

"Great... Mags is probably waiting for me." The Courier sighed.

"You can always skip it." Yes Man's voice emitted from the Pip-Boy.

"Nah... I'm a gentleman."

"Hahaha..." The AI laughed. "You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me."

"Ugh," The Courier grunted. "Anyways, write a quest on the log and call it... 'Happy Hunting'."

The Pip-Boy whirred as Yes Man got to work. "I suppose that's about the Legion scouts," The whirring stopped as the voice picked up. "I'll put it next to 'My Way'. You really should get around to finishing that."

"Well, considering the last task is to 'Live your life in the Mojave'," The Courier began walking toward the Ultra-Luxe. "I'll be procrastinating on that one."

"Oh," Yes Man spoke. "Big word. The Think Tank is rubbing off on you, how are they anyway? All your attempts to add me into their Networks have failed and I suppose they don't like that too much."

"They're... Fine." The Courier said, walking past Gamblers and Guests. "I guess... Last time I visited they gave me the, uh, let me get this right... Relocatolator."

He moved the Pip-Boy's camera to his belt, showing a circular device, glowing with a faint blue hue.

"Huh, Relocatolator... Okay. That's something. What does it do?" Yes Man inquired.

"Well... They said it was like an Mk. II of the Transportalponder." The Courier attempted to answer. "So, knowing them, I'm going to 'Not' test it out on myself."

"Smart." Yes Man gave his snarky remark.

"I know," The Courier stated as he looked up at the Ultra-Luxe. "I have my moments."

* * *

Upon opening the doors of the Ultra-Luxe, The Courier took in the polished architecture and glaring white lights with disdain. He never liked the Ultra-Luxe, too gaudy and fake for his liking. The Tops was his favorite Casino. He wished he told her to meet him at the Tops' restaurant, but it was too little and too late.

"Ah!" The Greeter exclaimed. "Executive! Wonderful for you to join us!"

Being called Executive gave The Courier a bit of a power-high, inheriting the role from Mr. House made him feel better about himself.

"Thank you," The Courier looked around. "I'm looking for a Military girl, blonde, about yay tall?"

"Yes, a Lieutenant Mags said she was awaiting you and made her way to The Gourmand."

"Wonderful, I'll be off." The Courier said while beginning to walk past the greeter.

"Have a marvelous day, sir!"

Some would get annoyed of the attention, but The Courier lived with it. It was nothing new to him, being the Legend of the Mojave and all.

"Look, Ms.-"

"Lieutenant."

"...Lieutenant," a slightly irritated woman responded. "If we let every NCR stray here, we'd be a pound."

"Oh-!" The other woman started. "I oughta!-"

On cue, the doors flew open revealing that old cowboy. "Ladies! Ladies! Calm down, there's enough of me to go around!"

The Courier saw Majorie, one of his employees, and his friend, Mags, who apparently owned a blue dress, not an elegant one, but a dress nonetheless.

"Executive! I-I didn't know you would be joining us," Marjorie frantically began grabbing menus.

"Finally..." Mags exclaimed at the sight of The Courier. "I thought I was about to punch her."

"Aw... I wouldn't want one of my boys to have to drag you outta here," The Courier made his

way over to her, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. "They don't like NCR types causin' a ruckus."

"Please, let me show your table." Majorie started to lead the two. "A-and sorry about the stray comment."

"Yeah-No, not gonna forgive that."

The Courier chuckled as they made their way to the table. "Hah... I missed this."

"This?" Mags turned her head to The Courier.

"Friends." He'd wink.

Arriving at their table, Mags noticing a small little sign displaying the word 'Executive' in an elegant font. Taking their seats, Majorie handed out the two menus, but The Courier raised a hand, rejecting the menu.

"I'll have the usual," the Courier then looked towards Mags. "Same for the lady... Oh, and a bottle of wine."

"Of course, sir," Majorie said taking the menus and, retreating back into the Kitchen.

"Not gonna let me, the 'lady', choose?" Mags smirked.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Mags looked around the large dining room, she always thought this place would be full to the brim, not devoid of the faintest conversation.

"So... Living the High Roller life?"

"Ah, you know me, Mr. Big Shot." The Courier shrugged.

"Big Shot, huh?" Mags sighed. "Why did you invite me here?"

The Courier was taken aback. "You're my friend, Mags... And, uh, I'm... Lonely, I guess."

"Lonely? Didn't you have a group of friends? What happened to them?"

The Courier looked down and twiddled his thumbs. "Got tired of me... Moved on to greener

pastures. Arcade stays at the Hospital, Raul is off God knows where, Veronica's trying to fix the Brotherhood with McNamara, Lily is in Jacobstown... I visit when I can, Cass and Boone went off to start a new caravan after, uh..." His eyes narrowed and his face grimaced.

"After what?" Mags pressed.

"After... I-" The Courier looked up and smiled. "Why am I pouring my heart out to you? Tell me about yourself!"

"Oh... well, uh, after Hoover Dam and you taking it over... The Misfits were assigned to Baja. After a while, Pointdexter got transferred to Cybernetics, O'Hanrahan didn't reenlist... It was just me and Razz for a time. Then, Razz left to join up with a PMC in New Reno, and they promoted me to some desk job for some top brass, Colonel. I'm on leave, asked to get shipped to Vegas, and happened to run into you."

"Crazy..."

"Tell me about it... So, I hear you and us have been butting heads over Hoover Dam, got any details?"

"Ah! Of course! You're a Spy!" The Courier gasped, then started to chuckle. "They want to send more power to Cali, and I don't think they've earned it."

"Well, we do secure the trade routes on the Long 15 and patrol the Mojave... Don't see your bots doing that."

"Patrol the Mojave? Yeah, okay. The NCR patrols because if they don't, they don't get my power, and if they don't get my power... Well, lights out. It's all in the contract."

Just as he finished that last word, a waiter appeared setting the plates, glasses, and the wine bottle down. The food was a Brahmin steak, medium rare, with a baked potato. A Classic.

"Bon Appetit!" the waiter said before making his exit.

"Well, don't let it get cold," The Courier said grabbing the wine bottle and pouring two glasses. "This place isn't cheap you know, and seeing what we're drinking... I'm telling a story."

* * *

"So, I'm looking at this guy, he's like 'What in the Goddamned?' and-," The Courier raises a finger, downing the remnants of his wine glass. "He's scared shitless! The fucker that popped two in my skull, right there... If I was who I am now, would've strangled him with own tie. Maybe take Jessup's advice and shove that lighter up his ass."

"I guess, you've had an interesting life," Mags said moving her glass over to be refiled.

"Don't know the half of it... Literally, haven't even gotten there yet."

Mags was silent for a few seconds, then found the courage to speak up. "I ran into Cass a few weeks ago... I guess she's the reason I got nostalgic about Vegas..."

The Courier didn't speak, just watched. His expression seemed it didn't know whether to be angry or sad, so it remained neutral.

"She, uh, is doing good, you were right. Her and Boone set up a Caravan, it's doing well... It's surpassing the Crimson Caravan, due to a controversy a few years back."

"I know." The Courier stared at the table.

"Well, she, uh, also told me that you... Weren't doing so good." Mags forced that last bit out.

The Courier's eyes darted to Mags, as his head slowly rose to face her.

"Uh... I, uh, she-"

"So, you came to pity me?"

"What? N-No!"

"Cause' that's what it's soundin' like." The Courier's voice still showed his lack of sobriety. "I don't need pity. I have a surplus of pity, all I have to do is talk to one of my 'Friends'."

"No! I just want to talk! See if we can get you back to yourself." Mags smirked.

The Courier blinked, but rather than being lost for words, he was finding it hard not to think of a select few.

"Back to myself?" The Courier poured another glass of wine and downed it. "So, you wanna fix me? Is that it?"

"Cass said you've been acting strange, that's why she left. That you-... Need to clean yourself up."

"First off, Cass doesn't have a fucking clue," The Courier folded his arms. "Second, what if I don't want to clean myself up?"

"You don't mean that."

"You don't know me," The Courier said, with a venomous tone. "None of you do. Maybe, I never was this 'Good Guy' everyone portrays me as. What if I was always a sick son-of-a-bitch that was good at hiding his true nature."

Mags eyes widened as The Courier leaned in closer, and closer.

"What if I was the Devil?" The Courier smirked. "And all of you were so fixated on your own problems, you let me in-charge?"

The Courier rose from his chair and Mags followed suit.

"Wait! Where are you going!?" Mags yelled at the Cowboy.

"To alleviate some stress."

"Wait! I Have..." Mags tried to yell out, but her military reflex told her not agitate him anymore.

And with that, The Courier had left the woman confused and alone yet again.

* * *

"Wow," Yes Man chimed in. "That was... Intimidating."

"Yes," The Courier said, striding through the Ultra-Luxe. "That's the point."

"Yeah, but wasn't she your friend?" Yes Man asked.

"I don't have Friends... Not anymore." The Courier said, throwing open the doors of the Casino.

Yes Man remained quiet, calculating his next words. First, The Courier was Angry. That was something that happened often, but not to this degree. Well, it has happened before, just not in recent times. Second, he seemed to be embracing his new desires.

"You either die a Hero," Yes Man emitted faintly. "Or live long enough to see yourself become the Villain."

"What?" The Courier stopped and raised his Pip-boy up. "What did you just say?"

"U-Uh... Nothing! Well, nothing important!" Yes Man said.

With a slight grunt, The Courier kept moving. It seemed he was off to the Lucky 38, to stock up on Weapons and Ammunition. He was on a Legion hunt now, and nothing on this Earth could divert his course.

"You're acting... Strange," Yes Man started. "Have you been hitting the Psycho again?"

The Courier remained silent, only the sound of his boots stomping the pavement was apparent.

"No... It took everyone to get you off of that! It took Me, Boone, Raul, Gannon, the Scribe, and even-!"

Before he could finish the volume knob was turned to zero.

"I've heard her name enough for today..."

The rest of the walk was silent as he walked pass gamblers and tourists.

Reaching the Lucky 38, he opened the door and moved over to the intercom.

"Butlers," The Courier pressed the talk button. "Have all of my equipment ready for me by the time I get up there... And a bottle of whiskey."

The Robotic sounds from the other end notified him they were getting to work.

With a sigh, he entered the elevator and pressed the Penthouse button.

"This was not how today was meant to go..."

* * *

As the elevator doors opened, a Protectron stood in front of him. It held up a platter and on it was a bottle of Whiskey.

"Ah..." The Courier grinned upon seeing it.

He grabbed it, unscrewed the top and took a good swig. After lowering the bottle he grimaced and continued around his home. Down the stairs he saw, what was formerly, his dining table, now it was transformed as a makeshift armory. Each of his weapons lined the wood, Medicinal items such as Chems and stimpacks littered together, ammunition in a clean duffle bag on the floor. A paradise for any gun-nut.

"Oh, Yeah..." The Courier's devilish smile appeared. "Papa's gonna have fun tonight."

"NO! No! No!" A Voice boomed through the penthouse. "You Are Going Nowhere, Mister!"

Yes Man may have been muted on his Pip-boy, but the monitor was something else entirely. The

Courier just sighed and began, equipping himself. Buckling his twin holsters to his waist and placing his kevlar vest over himself.

"First, you go ballistic on a poor woman! Then you start talking crazy! And Cass-"

"I Fucking Told You!" The Courier screamed as he holstered one of his revolvers. "I've Heard

Her Name One Too Many Fucking Times Today! Plus, I'm Starting To Get Sick OF YOUR SHIT!"

"I Don't Care!" Yes Man screamed back. "Get In Here and we will TALK IT OUT!"

Silence fell upon the penthouse. The tension was at its tightest, the slightest bit more pressure and both sides would snap.

"...Fine..." The Courier said, picking up the duffle bag and heading toward the monitor.

The monitor that inhabited the room kept that same smile, as it looked down upon whosoever soul stood before it.

"Thank You," Yes Man said. "Now... What's wrong?"

The machine's voice, albeit robotic and mechanical in nature, sounded concerned.

"Everything... I'm slipping... Every hand I get dealt is a shit one... Since she's sending others instead of coming," The Courier took another swig of his bottle. "She's moved on from me."

"That's not true."

"Is it? The Man she knew, The Man she loved...Died. He Was Murdered on that Cross," The Courier dropped the bottle, the contents poured out onto the red carpet, as he looked down at his hands. "No Stimpack, No Auto-Doc, No nothin' can remove these scars... Hell, I'm more machine than man nowadays anyway."

He pointed to his left eye, as it started changing from his normal hazel to a colorless silver. "They beat me. Ruptured my eye so bad it just... Popped. Pulled teeth from my head, cut off fingers... Hehe and."

The Courier started to chuckle. "I guess Caesar thought it would be ironic to brand me with the Platinum Chip. So... He did."

"I know this," Yes Man questioned. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't know... Not like I gotta shrink somewhere."

"Maybe we should invest in-"

The Courier stopped him before he could continue by raising a hand.

"That's not gonna help me," The Courier looked passed the Monitor, deep in the very code of his friend.

"I need revenge on these Fucks for killing me, turning me into Mr. House, and most importantly, taking her away from me."

Silence fell once again, this time it was Yes Man who broke it.

"Even in your state you have a 76% chance of getting out of this," Yes Man said with a tone seeming that was busy elsewhere. "If the RobCo Satellites are correct there are... 24 Legionaries at this location."

His Pip-boy lit up as he looked down and flipped to his Quest log.

HAPPY HUNTING

COMPLETED: Find The Legion Encampment.

Destroy The Encampment.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to find a boat," The Courier muttered.

"Already arranged," Yes Man said. "NCR Rangers left some... Here."

Flipping to his Map, he saw the map marker appear at Callville Bay, a place formerly overrun by Cazadores, but now just empty.

"Well, I guess I'll be off then."

"Oh, No. I'm coming with you." After finishing his last word, the same smiling face appeared on the Pip-boy. "Just make sure you turn up the Volume."

"Thanks..." The Courier said before chuckling. "I'll think about it."

* * *

Getting to Callville Bay was not that difficult. Long and tedious, but not difficult. All he did was walk, like he always does, play some music, eat, drink some booze, and walk some more. The story of his life in a nutshell. Arriving at the dock he arrived at an overlook, so, he used his binoculars from his duffle to scout out ahead.

"Looks Clear..." he muttered to himself as he looked around the dilapidated dockyard. "Should really fix this place up... One helluva tourist spot. What do you say?" He turned to his Pip-boy.

"Possibly," his AI said. "I'll have some Bots lurk around here later."

"Good... Now let's get on this boat."

Climbing down the rocks, he made his way across the concrete road and past the dry-docks. Finally, he found the Ranger's stash of boats.

"I wanted a Boat," The Courier gestured to the small floatation device. "Not a Boy Scout's merit badge project."

"A Canoe is a boat, It will work." Yes Man said with an annoyed tone.

"Yeah... Don't gotta be happy about it."

He tossed the duffle bag and Slowly lowered himself into the make-shift canoe, being careful not to fall into the water, he fell back into the last seat, grabbing the oars to row across.

After a solid 30 minutes of rowing, a few more drinks, a few more criticisms about said drinks, he finally made it to the opposite side of the Lake. Dragging the canoe up onto the sandy bank, slinging the duffle across his back, and throwing some shrubbery over it as camouflage he stopped for a small break.

"Is that really necessary?" Yes Man inquired about the foliage.

"Don't want some fucker stumbling upon my boat," The Courier said, stretching his arms. "Don't wanna swim all the way back."

"Oh, so now it's a boat?" Yes Man replied jokingly.

"Hehe- Fuck You."

After their banter, The Courier looked down at his Pip-boy, to find where his Map marker pinpointed. He caught the trail and headed off deeper East. Deeper into the unknown.

* * *

The Courier found a way up the steep cliff face, near where The Fort's ruins laid, using his strength to pull himself up onto the top plateau. He has been at The Fort after the 2nd Battle of Hoover Dam, he just didn't stay long enough to admire his Bots handy work. They destroyed everything in their path to the Dam, it was like another nuke went off and made the first ones seem like a frag grenade

He had some bad flash-backs when looking at the Fort since it was his Prison for a few weeks. Not a fun time to say the least.

Getting over his sense of nostalgia, The Courier kept on trucking, eventually finding their camp. They were held up in a small valley of sorts, it was about 20-30 feet deep and 50 feet wide. There was not a moment when the Legionaries were not patrolling the sides or the entrance of it. The entrance was a shallow trench that looked like it was dug out, the color was a bit darker than the rest of the crater.

The Courier studied the Map as the moon rose higher in the sky. He kept planning several different ways he could take the encampment down in one fell swoop. One plan was to chuck a lot of grenades in there and blow it hell, but if there were any documents or notes about their plans, they would be destroyed. After a few debates with Yes Man over the best tactic, they tried to settle on a more quiet approach.

"Okay, so I take out the foot patrol surrounding the encampment, enter through the trench, kill those guards, and when I'm ready," The Courier smiled as he pulled out his All-American Carbine. "light 'em up."

"I still think we should go through this as quiet as possible," Yes Man gave his rebuttal.

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?"

With an electronic sigh, Yes Man agreed to this plan, as flawed as it was.

"What time is it? It's already pretty dark out already," The Courier asked putting the Carbine back into the bag.

"11:37 PM," Yes Man gave his answer, "Plenty of time to get in and out before Dawn."

The Courier nodded his head in agreement as he slapped a Stealth-Boy onto his Pip-Boy and dropped his duffle bag. He observed his body while the light reflected around him, making him near invisible.

Using RobCo's satellite imaging system on his Pip-Boy, The Courier figured there was a lone guard patrolling the outer-ridge of the crater, and only two guarding the entrance. Strange… You'd think they'd have a bit more guards... But these are the Fuck-Ups who play Dress-Up, So… What are you gonna do?

The Courier moved across the sandy ground, paying mind to keep himself as quiet as humanly possible. He finally got a good look at the lone guard, a small man, not very large in stature. He wore veteran legion armor and holstered a 12.7mm Submachine gun. Not a very intimidating figure, but it did not matter much, he was destined to die today.

He waited for the Guard to stop for a few seconds to make his move. Slowly creeping up, The Courier made his move. He leaned up and shoved his hand on the guard's mouth and positioned his leg around the guard's, stopping any movement from happening. Instead of interrogating the poor guard, the Courier stuck the knife into the guard's throat, severing the windpipe completely. If he was not dead as a result, he certainly passed out and would drown in his own blood.

Wiping the knife clean on the dead man's clothes, he made his way over to the edge to get a better look of the place. There were a few leather tents that lined the crater and a roaring campfire in the middle, but it seemed a majority were asleep in their tents instead of being out and about, but one tent stood out among the rest. A large tent was pushed up against the wall of the crater, red cloth draped over it. Not unlike Caesar's tent at the Fort, just a smaller version.

"There's the money," The Courier whispered to himself.

He returned to his duffle to retrieve it, he'd need it for what was about to come. So, he slung it over his back and crouched over to the entrance.

The Courier looked at the incline that served as the entrance, a guard sitting in a white plastic chair, feet folded out and fast asleep. He smiled at this site, as he crept up behind the sleeping guard. Killing that guard was not that messy, he bled a lot but he did not get on The Courier's shoes so it alright.

He began to creep over the campsite, walking passed the roarings flames of the fire. He did his best to keep quiet as he walked over to the large tent.

Peaking his head inside confused him, he expected it to be an extravagant home fit for a king, but only found it empty.

"What the fuck-"

Before he could finish his thought, light poured onto the campsite completely drowning out the campfire. The Courier quickly turned and his hand went for his holster.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, John." a monotonous voice called out from the blinding lights.

The Courier looked at his surroundings, he was completely surrounded. It was a trap and he just walked in it without a care in the world.

"John? We one a first name basis or some shit?" The Courier spoke up as he looked into the floodlights.

"Or some shit."

"Ah... We gotta fuckin' sarcastic motherfucker here. Boyfriend teach you that one when you were getting plowed?"

The voice chuckled at The Courier's remark.

"Juvenile. Caesar's memoirs were very acute in describing your character."

"How much do you bet he wasn't thinking that when I was giving him a free lobotomy?" The Courier's hand slowly rested on his revolver's ivory handle.

"He probably was not thinking about that. He was thinking how could his successor fall so far from grace."

The Courier narrowed his eyes and looked directly at the voice.

"Fuck do you mean?"

"You didn't know? Ha... That's what you get when you kill before you speak, John."

"I'm starting to wish that's what I should have done, to begin with, this conversation."

"You fool... You had the world, Caesar handpicked you to be his Augustus. The new Son of God to rule his empire and you chose what? A city full of degenerates? Whoring themselves out for drugs and money? Much like yourself in that regard, John."

"And you're one to talk... Mr. I'm-too-cool-for-school. I bet your just as depraved as me, just as corrupt. The only difference is, I know what I'm a degenerate... You can't even look in the mirror."

"Hmm... Perhaps you're right, but from where you standing you might as well be wrong."

The Figure backed away.

"I am Caesar Augustus by the way and thank you for coming, saves us the trouble of having you crucified again."

He turned for a second then turned back again to get the last word.

"And how do they say it in Vegas 'The game was rigged from the start'? well... That much is true."

"One hell of a Deja Vu moment..."

"Kill him."

As the words emitted from his mouth the surrounding legionaries opened fire on the lone man. Their bullets hit his subdermal implant, bruising his body bad, and others of a stronger caliber tore straight through.

The Courier had no time to fire, no time to dodge. He felt the searing pain of metal tearing through flesh and blood pooling around impact zones.

He had time for one movement, only one. He reached down and slammed his belt buckle. The Relocatolator flashed a bright blue light and with that, The Courier who had cheated death in a cemetery outside Goodsprings and again at Hoover Dam had cheated once.

And soon the World of Remnant would be forever changed. For better or for Worse.

* * *

The Emerald forest was silent. The animals were sleeping, the Grimm out and about minding their own business. Trees shook as the wind blew by and leaves fell down, giving the scent of pine and oak throughout the forest. It was peaceful and quaint.

In an area covered in trees, them protruding up high into the sky, our hero laid. In a pool of his own blood, alongside a duffle bag of supplies, weapons, and drugs.

His eyes were closed as he was lost in his own mind. He did not quite understand what that scent of oak and pine were. He understood he was smelling himself with the strong iron smell, but the other ones were just new.

His eyes opened and looked at the baby blue sky, the white clouds overhead, the trees green as could ever be. It reminded him of Zion, but it could not be there. He thought one word that shook his core.

It could not be. That would be impossible. That land was long to time, to the War, to everything. And yet here he laid.

He stared up at the heavens, passed the green leaves and foliage, as the heavens stared back.

One word echoed in his mind.

"Canada..?"

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, here we are.

Always wanted to write a story like this and so I did.

I've been writing this for a while now and I think I've finally finished it.

I love to have your feed back and comments, they'll help me go forward.


End file.
